Twenty Eighth

I had a really long day.

It started at work, if we're going by the technical 24 hour containment. I was up til 2, coming home from work. I could have slept there. I didn't. It's harder to drive home when you sleep. So I came home, got to bed late. I got up late, too. I got in the shower late. When i was done, I continued to take my time, despite being incredibly late for church. When I was ready, i was so late I felt silly going aside from picking up my sister. I fooled around online, did little things, and left in enough time to get there just as they were getting out. Only to find my mother there, ready to bust me about not going. While I was there I missed someone close to me in a way I shouldn't have, and it made me feel worse.

I left church, and got food that is horrible for my body. I watched something, again instead of sleeping, that is perhaps not as good as other things I could have watched. Then I went to work, late again, a total shocker.

I do not like my Sunday's anymore. Which I find disappointing, but still true. I feel no connection to my Creator there. Once a month, maybe, when I can hear from a certain pastor. Almost always when I sing up on that stage, but thats not enough. And then I go to the job that I keep only because I need the money. It's for a family that is odd, even by my definition. The father makes me uncomfortable, the grandparents live downstairs, the mother...I don't quite know, though she is by far the easiest to stand. The child, whom I spend hours straight with, is a brat. She is spoiled and heavy and whiney and manipulative, among other things. She makes me crazy. This is as rare as a needle in a haystack; anyone who knows me can attest to how much I adore children. Yet this one gives me what feels like post-pardum depression every time i leave a shift with her. Thats just not healthy.

And that is where I arrived late, and quite why I arrived late. I took her from her mother, so I could care for her and we could play. She screamed. Thats what she does a lot. Often as if I am tearing her limbs off. It is incredibly frustrating, particularly because I am in a house full of people and three out of the four doesn't believe much in allowing her to cry. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is? It's almost nothing compared to having to take her outside twice in 85 degree weather with intense humidity, which improved her mood only slightly until she quickly overheated. I am in pain because of the bruises where she grabbed me. She has the most invasive hands and feet I have ever known, and thanks to her it is an enormous pet peeve of mine now when people wiggle their pointy hands or toes into me.

Better than that, she wouldn't sleep. Not at all. Not when she was supposed to take her usual nap, despite the fact that she was tired beyond belief. No, no. I had to deal with her refusal. Finally, finally, after six hours with a cranky, chunky, snot face, she falls asleep. And my night began to improve. I watched Amelie for the first time, and I fell in love. I listened to Jonsi and calmed myself some. They both have accents over one of their vowels that my mere English keyboard isn't letting me replicate. And I held the walnut baby as she slept. And there, after being horrifying all day, she just slept. She was quiet and she rested. And it was hard to be frustrated with her like that. She's just a baby, after all. But she's got enough head on her shoulders to be a right brat. She's being raised in a way I don't agree with and have a hard time being around. But it's not my call, just my problem once a week.

But at last I got to rest. But not enough. I don't know where I'm going with this. I don't know why I'm complaining. Probably because last week was so horrible that this being how this week started, I'm nervous about how it's going to go down now. Maybe I just need the illusion that someone will see this.

Maybe I just need a hug without chubby little hands clawing at my neck and screaming in my ear.

Maybe I need to cry about this semester and the loss of my car and the fact that I am struggling with feelings for one of my best friends when I don't want them. Maybe it's because my one creative outlet is on the brink of extinction, again. Maybe I need to scream because of how my father is driving my whole family apart.

Maybe I just need to sleep.